


all that you've thrown away

by babybirdblues



Series: from the very first  [dicktim week 2019] [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Assumed one-sided relationship, Blood, Gen, Implied Child Abuse, Injury, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:01:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/pseuds/babybirdblues
Summary: Tim's been feeling off for a few days.  It's not unusual. Not really. He's been on and off for a while now -- ever since before Bruce was brought back from the time stream.  It's just that it’s gotten so bad that the rest of the family has noticed. Tim's lost count of the amount of times he's been asked if he's slept recently.(He has, for your information.)If anyone knew, they would think that it's his inner omega throwing things off, but Tim's never been an omega that affects others.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
Series: from the very first  [dicktim week 2019] [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570708
Comments: 13
Kudos: 237
Collections: Dick Tim Week 2019





	all that you've thrown away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salazarastark (niewanyin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/gifts).



> Day two of DickTim week! Again, posting early. But I mean, it's the 16th somewhere. This is for the prompt A/B/O and blood! I'm not too comfortable with A/B/O stuff, so I hope it's okay.

Tim's been feeling off for a few days. It's not unusual. Not really. He's been on and off for a while now -- ever since before Bruce was brought back from the time stream. It's just that it’s gotten so bad that the rest of the family has noticed. Tim's lost count of the amount of times he's been asked if he's slept recently.

(He has, for your information.)

If anyone knew, they would think that it's his inner omega throwing things off, but Tim's never been an omega that affects others. Never been one that makes anyone want to stay with him or take care of him. He always was a bad omega -- even before he knew that was what he’d be.

Not that anyone knows, now; what with his parents dying before he even they could be disappointed.

(It doesn't really change much. Being a good or bad omega has no bearing on the outcome of his day to day life.)

"Tim?"

Tim just manages to keep his arm at his side -- it wouldn't do to punch Dick. Though, Tim can't keep the flinch in when he looks up to see Dick frowning down at him.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

Dick's hand hovers in mid-air, as if he were reaching out to touch Tim. "I was just asking if you had a plan for patrol tonight."

Tim did -- does. But he has a feeling that Dick wants him to do something that would otherwise not happen. "Not really. Just chasing a few leads."

"That's good, really good. You should take it easy every now and again," the tentative smile makes something warm in Tim's chest. It cools off just as quickly. "I was hoping that you'd take Damian along with you -- he's still injured. Jason and I are--"

"Breaking into one of Scarecrow's warehouses, yes. I don't see why I have to take the brat along with me."

"Bruce is off planet," Dick steps closer. Tim manages to not step back. "And Steph would go with him, but she's not patrolling tonight. I wouldn't ask you to go out of your way. I just," Dick's shoulders slump, raising up to his ears in a sigh. "he's going to sneak out if I don't send someone with him. It's such a bad idea --"

"Fine," Tim turns away, heading for the Cave. "I'll take him along. Don't think I won't head back as soon as the monster tries to kill me again."

Tim doesn't see Dick wince, turned away as he is, but he hears the hesitance in his voice. "Damian's, well, he's getting better. He hasn't tried to stab me in three weeks."

"Wow," Tim doesn't care if Dick actually hears him or not. "What an improvement." And though Tim's pretty sure he's not being as sarcastic as he wants to be, it bleeds through. He doesn't let Dick answer though, doesn't want to know what he'd say.

<<<<>>>>

He’s still off halfway through patrol and the gremlin knows. It wouldn’t be so bad except that Damian is furious at Dick for benching him -- or well, sending him off with Tim. Either works enough to make Damian a roiling mass of teenage angst and anger. Tim sort of wishes he had told Dick he wasn’t leaving his apartment tonight.

But he did.

(It wouldn’t have mattered anyways. Dick would have looked at him with those eyes -- would have let off such a disappointed scent -- and Tim would have caved like a house of cards.)

“Look,” Tim tries not to raise his voice. He really does. But there’s only so much he can do when he’s splitting his attention between observing their surroundings and forcing his muscles to relax. “I realize that neither of us want to be here, but we are and you need to stop.”

Damian near growls, shoulders up around his ears. Tim can just picture the narrow slant his eyes have taken behind his domino.

“Tt,” the monster hasn’t presented yet. Regardless, Tim is willing to bet that all the little changes in behaviour that Damian’s going through are signs that he’ll be an alpha like Talia is. He just doesn’t have Bruce’s, well, Bruce’s beta calm.

(Which is hilarious when you think about it -- a calm, collected beta who dresses up in a giant batsuit to beat up criminals. Tim has so many jokes he wants to make -- would probably make the if someone were actually willing to listen.)

“You may return to the Cave, Red Robin, if you must.”

Damian always manages to raise Tim’s hackles. He doesn’t understand why; he thought his was past this. Well, except for the attempted murder part. Tim doesn’t think he’ll be past that until they stop. He thinks that’s fair though.

“And you’ll what? Stay out here and beat an unlucky criminal to death?”

Tim knows he should probably stop talking. Knows that he’s not helping anything. But he’s gotten used to be just as prickly and angry at Damian as Damian is at him. So, even though he wants to just sigh and tell the brat that he’s not going back without the kid -- because he’s not that big of an asshole to leave the not-yet-thirteen year old on the streets of Gotham alone -- he lets a breath hiss out through gritted teeth.

(Not to mention he doesn’t want to deal with Dick’s unhappiness and disappointment on top of everything else.)

“Look,” another deep breath. “We’re stuck together for tonight. There’s no arguing that.”

“Tt,” Damian crosses his arms, balancing on the edge of the building. Part of Tim wants to snap at him to get away from the drop. But that would be counteractive.

“Just,” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose trying to stave off a headache. “Let’s get through patrol without bloodshed, okay?”

Damian frowns at him, nose twitching as he scents the air. “If we must.”

The sigh that leaves him is one of relief. He’s too bone weary for this entire night. “All right. Good.”

<<<<>>>>

They’re near the end of their patrol when shit hits the fan.

Damian’s a few steps in front of him, just about to grapple to the next building. There’s a flash, nothing super obvious in the gloom of the Gotham buildings. But it puts Tim on edge and he reacts just in time to tackle the kid.

The report of gunshots echo off the surrounding buildings and Tim winces as each one makes his ears ring.

“Get off of me,” Damian snarls, flailing under Tim’s arm.

“Stay down Robin!” Tim doesn’t have time for this. The shots are coming from two places now and he's not about to let them be flanked. But all it takes is a moment -- Tim springing to his feet, birdarang hitting the second gunman -- and Damian disappears. Why does the brat never do what he’s told? "Robin?"

Damian doesn't respond.

"Robin, report! Where are you?"

The sharp tang of blood reaches his nose, even as he returns to the edge of the building. There’s no Damian. No smarmy brat insulting him for over reacting. Nothing but a few drops of blood.

No.

No this can’t be happening.

There’s no way that Damian could have been shot. Not when he was out with Tim. Not when Tim was responsible for him.

A gurgling, gasping sound comes from a few feet below the edge of the roof and Tim’s lunging for it before he knows what he’s doing. There’s a fire escape, and collapsed on the top landing is Damian -- Robin -- blood darkening the red of his tunic to a near black.

<<<<>>>>

Tim loses time.

(Loses his mind a bit too.)

But he can’t -- this is his fault. Damian was on patrol with him. He was responsible for the kid and now he’s here, bleeding out on a gurney in the Cave. And Bruce isn’t even in the country to be with his kid. Tim’s going to be the reason Bruce loses his kid for good and --

“Master Timothy!”

Tim comes back to himself with a start. His hands are covered in blood where they rest on Damian’s chest, putting as much pressure on it as he can. There’s too much blood.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred’s voice softens, a gloved hand coming up to grasp quickly at Tim’s wrist. “I know this is difficult, but I need you here with me.”

“Y-yeah,” Tim swallows, forcing his hands steady again. “I’m here.”

(He has to be; he can’t cause this.)

Tim watches as Alfred begins to hook Damian up to the blood bags. There’s at least five of them -- Tim’s pretty sure they don’t have five of Damian’s blood on hand. Not after the mission months ago that ended up with Damian’s femoral artery being reconstructed.

“Master Timothy?”

He must be losing time again. Because Alfred is back with all the surgical tools lined up neatly. And there’s Jason, which means Dick won’t be far behind. And just --

(This is his fault.)

Damian flatlines.

There’s a ringing in the air. It takes a few moments for him to realize that it’s not a ringing; someone’s keening, high and thready -- desperate.

“Tim?”

Damian can’t flatline. He can’t die. Tim can’t have caused this. Not this time. Damian can’t die on Tim’s watch. Can’t die because Tim wasn’t good enough.

“Tim!”

A hand grips his chin, forcing his eyes to meet blue -- those eyes aren’t fair they’re so blueblueblue why? -- eyes that are wrinkled in concern.

“Tim,” Dick’s voice is soft, like he’s trying to talk him down from jumping. “You need to let Alfred and Jason handle this. Please.”

No. No he can’t leave the baby alpha. Can’t leave the youngest pack mate and no one is going to make him. Tim bares his teeth at Dick in a snarl, barely registering that there’s the heavy, sweet scent of an omega in distress permerating the Cave. He knows that’s bad. Knows that if his scent blockers aren’t working then his instincts are almost to the point where they’re going to shut down his rational mind.

(Tim wants that. Wants to just let go and let someone take care of him. Wants to take care of someone without holding himself at a distance.)

“Tim, I get it.” Dick does. Tim’s rational mind knows this but his hindbrain is telling him this is the alpha that abandoned him more than once. This is the alpha who chose the baby alpha above him -- who was supposed to be pack.

(Nevermind the fact that Tim hasn’t told anyone. If Dick had known he was an omega, would that have changed anything?)

“Alfie and Jay got this. Let me take care of you?”

No.

“No,” Tim rips himself away from the warmth of Dick’s hands, taking in the space between Damian and them in horror. How could he have allowed himself to be moved? “No! I, I need. I need to--”

“Tim. Timmy.  _ Please _ ,” Dick’s voice breaks, hands clenching in the space between them. “Jay and Alfie have Damian. I’m worried about you. Please let me help.”

Tim doesn’t need his help.

(His hindbrain keens and Tim doesn’t notice when the sound escapes his throat.)

“ _ Please _ .”

Dick lunges at him. Tim’s hackles raise, muscles contracting in an attempt to get away to do something -- maybe tear his throat out with his teeth -- but then Dick is pressing Tim’s face into his neck, into where the scent glands are the most potent and Tim melts.

Alpha.

Alphaalphaalphaalpha.

One that wants to protect him. One that’s sturdy and worried and Tim never wanted this.

He knows that in the end things are going to either get better or he’s going to shatter completely. But right here and now, Tim can’t help but let his instincts take the comfort, take the care being offered.

(He’s so tired.)


End file.
